Kenobi! ObiWan!
by ardavenport
Summary: Obi-Wan waits for a rescue from his master in a very orderly place.
1. Chapter 1

**KENOBI! OBI-WAN!**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 1**

"Kenobi! Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan tensed, flipped over on his cot and looked up toward the Hailing Platform at the center of a nexus of metaloid walkways suspended from the vast ceiling above. He could see a cluster of colored specks gathered there, one of them tall and dark brown.

Leaping up in one motion, Obi-Wan hit the hard gray floor and ran down the narrow aisle between the rows of cots. People hastily pulled in yellow-clothed legs and arms out of the young man's way. A few grinned and raised their arms in support, but he did not slow down to acknowledge them.

At the end of the rows, he swiftly turned into the main aisle, running in the direction of the Hailing Platform Tower. Pristine pale blue, it rose high up above the sea of thousands of orderly rows of cots, the only tall structure in the vast, covered space. Except for the other Hailing platforms in the far distance.

"Running is not permitted," the evenly-toned synth-voice of an Attendant Droid called from behind him. Obi-Wan heard a low whir approaching quickly.

"Running is not permitted."

Eyes still fixed on the Tower, Obi-Wan slowed to a jog, moving to the side of the aisle. He jumped on the small people transport as it caught up to him. His pale yellow boots thumped hollowly on the plasti-form.

"For your own safety, please be seated," the droid instructed. Obi-Wan sat on the thinly padded center bench.

"The nearest Hailing Tower, please," he requested, his eyes not leaving his goal.

The droid nodded its boxy, bright green head, glowing yellow eye-sensors blinking. The transport accelerated, humming quickly past the long rows of cots that receded into the distance. The faces of people among them turned toward him, their curiosity a blur. But many others did not look or turned away, their uniformly-clothed muted yellow bodies going about their business, or just lying down passively among the cots.

"Kenobi! Obi-Wan!" boomed throughout the vast empty space above. Days of uncertainty, of waiting and wondering why Qui-Gon was late retrieving him vanished in the excitement of the moment. He would soon know what had happened.

The transport slowed, turned and accelerated again, heading straight for the Tower. Obi-Wan tilted his head back as they approached. Widest at the base, the tower reached all the way up to the catwalks and transport tubes suspended from the ceiling, like a pale-blue path pointing up to a false gray sky.

Even before the transport stopped, Obi-Wan jumped off, ignoring the Attendant Droid's warnings about safety. He ran to the stairs. The tower had lifts, but his own legs and the Force were just as fast and he could see the people at the top of the tower as he approached.

He flew up the stairs that wound around the outside of the tower, four steps at a time. The stair gratings clanged with each impact of the short pull-on boots he wore. He could not see the top of the tower until he was well past half-way up, but one turn finally brought the Hailing Platform and the people on it into view. There were the usual white-suited officials of the Charity Holdings, but also some persons in gold and dark reds and blues. No uniforms, but clean lines and rich colors defined the clothes of the people conversing amongst themselves. The back of a dark brown robe stood taller than the others.

Obi-Wan slowed his pace on the next landing. He focused his attention on the brown robe at the top of the tower.

It did not turn toward him.

His steps faltering to a stop, his purpose and hope evaporating. Obi-Wan, heart pounding, gripped the handrail, his senses still straining for a familiar response, but his eagerness plunged into something like desperation.

A face of a Holdings official turned in his direction, looking down.

Grasping the rail, Obi-Wan leapt up and balanced on it for an instant before jumping. Someone from above cried out.

With the air rushing past his body, the Force took him, whipping away his fear along with the wounded hope. Arms spread wide, it flowed through him, lightening the grip of gravity on his descent, guiding him toward an open spot of floor that rushed up to meet him.

His feet solidly thudded on the hard floor, the Force taking away the shock of the impact like an exhaled breath.

Wide eyes stared at him from the people closet to the base of the tower. Even the ones lying on their cots lifted their heads to stare at the young man who had suddenly dropped down from above.

Now needing to disappear, Obi-Wan quick-timed into the crowd of humanoids. They parted for him, staring, watching. None of them making any noise near him. But two rows away from the edge of the cots Obi-Wan became just another Humanoid wearing loose pale yellow pants and tunic, slender, average height, common brown hair on his head. The crowds were always thicker around the Tower with those more hopeful of being retrieved from the Charity Holdings. People still moved toward where he had landed, but they were looking for a body, broken on the ground. They did not know who he was. He ducked under the faces lifted up to see what had happened.

Obi-Wan walked quickly away from the scene, just another occupant of the Holdings. Attendant Droids moved in, big shiny green metaloid bodies with heads raised to full height above the crowd. They politely asked people to disperse. Obi-Wan hurried on.

When he reached a main aisle he headed back in the direction of his own cot, far in the distance across a field of thousands of others just like it. His breathing slowed from his exertion. Now he reached for calm, but anxiety fed by disappointment still fluttered inside him.

Unnoticed by so many others just like him, Obi-Wan looked back toward the top of the Tower. Most of the newcomers seemed to have gone, including the person in the dark brown robe. The person who was not Qui-Gon Jinn.

"Themtosi! Coolus!" the public voice sounded. They had moved on to the next person being offered retrieval from the Charity Holdings.

Obi-Wan only felt his Master's absence in the Force. He was probably not even on the planet. The anxiety in his stomach intensified. Obi-Wan kept walking and cleared his mind of thoughts. That helped a little.

Leaving the clumps of people near the Tower behind, he walked down the wide aisle past rows and rows of identical cots, the way receding into a distance he could not see the end of. Only every third cot was occupied with occasional groupings of twos and threes sitting or standing together.

The huge open space of the Charity Holdings reverberated with the low rumbles of thousands and thousands of people, mostly Humanoids of the planet, but a few other types. But as he passed them, Obi-Wan rarely seemed to catch people talking to each other. They moved about on the greenish-brown coverings of their cots; they stood; they sat; they walked, all dressed in plain pale yellow pants, tunics and boots, all loose fitting and generically designed to fit a wide variety of different bodies and appendages.

Passing him in the aisle, two people walked together, conversing. The friendship registered with him; such things did happen in this place. But the words glided out of Obi-Wan's awareness as soon as they passed him.

A short blue building under the artificial sky of the ceiling and its evenly-spaced sunlight-colored glow panels drew his attention. Obi-Wan turned at the next aisle leading leaded toward it.

"Peekolarit! Cheem!" he heard from above.

The small blue buildings dispensed and accommodated all the necessities of living, if not of life. Divided into four Service categories; each quarter contained Food and Drink, Bodily Waste Facilities, Washing, Hygiene and Clothing Replacement, and finally Medical Care.

Obi-Wan went to Bodily Wastes rooms first. There were only a few other patrons, as usual. The droids watched as Obi-Wan made use of the trough of flowing water. Privacy was a luxury not deemed necessary for the minimalist accommodations of the Charity Holdings, a constant reminder to the patrons that while their survival was ensured, they should act to free themselves if they wanted more.

Obi-Wan stared at the long list of "DO NOTS" posted in multiple languages in large letters on the wall, the only form of decoration in the Charity Holdings that Obi-Wan had ever seen. After wiping himself with the sanitary, disposable flimsies, he cleansed himself and his hands before exiting and going around to the Washing Quarter. There were more patrons there. And more droids. The Needs Buildings were always very well policed. And while the Attendant Droids' prods and blasters only fired stun charges, they quickly enforced even the appearance of rule breaking. The patrons quickly learned that it was best to always stay out of arm's reach of each other.

He stripped all of his clothes off and handed them to a droid. A small, purple-skinned Humanoid woman shyly smiled toward Obi-Wan. He nodded politely, but turned away as he stepped under the water showers. The Needs Buildings were the worst possible place to make acquaintances since it was forbidden in the rules.

The cleaning solution raining down on him was tepid at best, but it cleaned well enough and was acceptable for all species. He scrubbed his hair and rubbed the solution down the long strands of hair behind his right ear. The hair would not stay braided without the ties, so he wore it loose, keeping it tucked behind his ear. While he washed, he heard more names called out, two individuals and two families.

After stepping out of the rinsing shower and blowers, Obi-Wan saw the purple woman staring wide-eyed as an Attendant Droid explained how the Washing, Hygiene and Clothing Replacement Quarter was organized and what she needed to do. She must be new and had lingered too long.

The Attendant Droid that Obi-Wan had handed his clothes to gave him back similar and clean replacements. He dressed under the watchful eye-sensors of the shiny-green droid and left. He could not help the new woman. That was the eighteenth rule on things not allowed on the long lists posted on all the walls of the Needs Buildings.

Exiting the Washing Quarter, he went next to the Food and Drink Quarter. But he only stared at the entance for a moment before moving on. He was not hungry.

He walked on, passing more and more rows of cots.

"Aye!" a voice on his left called. Obi-Wan turned to see a tall, brawny red-skinned male with long length of hair hanging from the back of his head. Obi-Wan gave him a neutral look and did not slow down.

"You new here?" he asked.

"I've been here a few days," he responded.

"Really? I haven't seen you about," the male said. He was older than Obi-Wan and had a square jaw and muscular biceps bulging under his yellow tunic sleeves.

"This is a very big place. I'm just walking back to my area."

"Really? Any better than what I got here?"

"I believe all the areas are the same," Obi-Wan told him.

"Hmmm. Say you got any stuff? Any blow? Any wheeze?"

This person had to have just arrived to think that any such things were possible. Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Shambizi! Guri!" the voice called out from above.

"Really?" The red-skinned man looked hard at Obi-Wan. He was at least a head taller than Obi-Wan, possibly taller than Qui-Gon. "Not sure I believe that. Don't see how all these people could be so calm here without something to calm them."

"The droids maintain things very well here. It would be best not to cross them."

"Hah! I'm not afraid of any droid-nannies. They've only got stun sticks anyway."

They had been walking together down the aisle, but the bigger man walked closer and closer, forcing Obi-Wan to the right. When he stopped giving ground the big man just walked right into him, their bodies touching.

"Fraternization is not allowed," a mild-toned synth voice said from behind them. The big red man snarled and turned. Obi-Wan tried to walk on but the other grabbed his arm in a tight grip.

"Not yet. I'm not done with you."

"Fraternization is not allowed," the droid repeated, a long metaloid pole clicked into and extended appendage

Obi-Wan whipped his arm around, breaking the man's grip so he wouldn't be caught in the stun charge. Then he backed up and sat on the nearest empty cot, his hands out away from his body and visible.

The big man was tough. He shook off the first charge and advanced, grabbing the pole. But another, stronger charge from the droid's side arm made him wince. Five more green droids ran toward them from all directions.

It was over very quickly.

"You will be assigned a personal Attendant Droid to instruct you in the rules of acceptable conduct in the Charity Holdings. . . . " A vocalizer stated as the machines dragged the limp red man off with them.

The first droid only paused for a moment, its yellow eye sensors evaluating Obi-Wan before it swivelled its head away from him and followed the group.

As soon as it was gone, Obi-Wan got up and walked on. The heads of the other yellow clothed people nearby had already turned away from the activity. Order was maintained.

"Mashimo! Mynis!" boomed from the tower now far behind.

Obi-Wan supposed that if he had his lightsaber he could dispose of the droids easily, but he did not see the point. They were only attendants, blameless machines. And he had no lightsaber. Qui-Gon had that. Wherever he was. He had presented himself with as little as possible because he had to surrender everything on him that was not medically necessary to be accepted into the Charity Holdings. He could not even keep the ties for braid. The rules of the Charity Holdings were very strict.

After hearing six more names, he finally saw familiar designations on the signposts at the aisle intersections. Obi-Wan turned left, walked a way, turned right and counted to the fifteenth cot on his left. The two cots on either side of him were empty, their dark greenish-brown coverings fresh and folded. Empty cots on either side was the most privacy he was allowed. But Obi-Wan suspected that this policy had more to do with preventing over-crowding than the needs of the inmates of the Charity Holdings.

A few heads had turned his way as he passed by, but he did not lift his eyes to read the disappointment in their eyes that he had come back, that he had not been freed after all.

Pulling back the top covering, Obi-Wan lay down on his cot. He stared up at the light above. It was still hours until they would be dimmed for night cycle, but they never completely went out.

"Clumarin! Yatta!" he heard from above.

His stomach growled, but Obi-Wan was not hungry.

**- - - End Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**Kenobi! Obi-Wan!**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 2**

When he heard the first warning gong of the night cycle, Obi-Wan got up and went to the nearest Needs Building and got a quick, light meal of boiled grains, plant proteins and vegetables. It was plain and bland. Not really bad, but all the selections seemed to be variations on the same thing.

People in the Food and Drink Quarter sat in groups. Some talked. Most of them just went about the work of eating, the necessary refueling that their bodies required. A thin old man grunted to Obi-Wan about the good food he would eat when he got out in the morning, when his name was called.

Another warning gong sounded.

A couple of women with whom he had a passing acquaintance, Bremet and Heeli, passed by him on their way out and asked about his name being called earlier. Obi-Wan shook his head.

"It wasn't the person I was waiting for."

Obviously surprised, they looked at each other as if to ask why that could be important. But they nodded polite agreement back to him and moved on.

After visiting the Bodily Wastes quarter he went back to his cot. He saw a few other familiar faces looking his way, clearly expecting him to be gone. But after the initial surprise they averted their eyes. No one said anything to him. They all returned to their cots; the droids walked up and down the aisles, watchful for any disorder.

The final gong sounded. Soon after, the lights dimmed.

Many people lay down on their cots to endure the passage of the night cycle. A few conversed. Groups of twos and threes were permitted for a short time. They always broke up as soon as a droid moved in their direction.

Sitting alone, cross-legged on his cot, Obi-Wan's mind remained cluttered with the debris of despair. He had not been able to meditate the previous night and he would not reinforce this failure with another, along with the panic and sleeplessness that had followed.

The contradictions of the Charity Holdings stifled him. No one here had any possessions or attachments. To enter they had to give up anything they carried to prove that they were truly in need and that they had no resources or support of their own. Obi-Wan had never imagined that this would bother him when he volunteered to go in to contact Treddius Owain who had taken refuge in the Charity Holdings.

Neither Obi-Wan nor his Master knew why Owain's knowledge was so dangerous or why it was so important to the Republic. But his last message to his contacts in the Republic Judiciary had been where he was hiding from his enemies and that he would only come out if they sent a Jedi to tell him it was safe and that the person sponsoring him out of the Charity Holdings was a friend and not an enemy come to kill him. So Obi-Wan had removed all his outer clothing and given his things to his Master and presented himself to the evaluators as a person who had no home.

After they accepted and processed him, he had gone down into the vast space and found Treddius Owain, the Force as much a guide to him as the mission briefing from the Judiciary. Owain had been suspicious, but Obi-Wan could call things to his hand with the Force and he knew the names of Owain's contacts in the Republic. That had convinced the fugitive. When Owain's name was called from the Tower, he went. Obi-Wan saw him meeting Qui-Gon at the top. They left together, but Qui-Gon had looked down at the ordered plain of cots below him and his eyes looked right at his Padawan. He would be back in a day, after he had delivered Owain to safety.

That had been six days ago.

The rustlings of a forest of people settling into their cots died down, but the pervasive waves of the huge volume of air being moved and refreshed by the overhead recyclers remained. In the twilighting, Obi-wan saw a few black shapes of bodies and heads still sitting up or standing in the distance, but most of the movements he glimpsed were bulges rising and subsiding under greenish blankets gone dark gray in the gloom.

For the first day after Qui-Gon had taken Owain away, he had listened attentively to the names of people to be retrieved from the Charity Holdings by potential sponsors. But he had not expected Qui-Gon to return so quickly.

The second day of waiting had ended in disappointment. But he had rested well that night.

Early on the third day, worry bled into his disappointment. When the lights came up with the morning rush of names called one after another, Obi-Wan had gone to the Posting Station where the cluster of other yellow-clothed hopefuls double-checked lists of people with sponsors calling for them, just in case they missed their own names in the rapid fire first announcements. Too short to see over many of them and unwilling to push through, Obi-Wan had anxiously waited his turn, but his own name had not been not listed.

Though he knew it was pointless, his mind still churned over the many possibilities and events that might have delayed his Master. He exercised by walking down the long aisles, observing the others and wondering.

On the fourth day he met someone who said his name was also Kenobi, though his given name was Crive. He was short and stubbled with graying hair with an unhealthy bluish tinge under his brown skin. He freely admitted to being an addict who had finally used up his last friend. With no home or work, which was illegal on this world, he had handed himself over to the Charity Holdings. They politely parted, but Obi-Wan had deliberately stayed away from the area around Crive's cot since then.

In the snatches of conversation around him at meals and among the cots, Obi-Wan heard similar stories from people who had lost work and hope, gamblers, addicts, cast offs, malcontents. When they finally submitted themselves to the Charity Holdings (or were turned in by the authorities) everyone was examined for physical and mental conditions. Those who needed significant attention were channeled to the Medical Charity Holdings. The healthy, repaired, cured and detoxed went to the general Charity Holdings, to wait out their lives in an orderly way permitted on this planet and wait. Until they were sponsored out.

On the fifth day, Obi-Wan had watched the crowds of people clustered at the Posting Stations and wondered when he should submit himself to an anonymous sponsor, just to escape the Charity Holdings so he could find his way off world and back to Coruscant. But it was still much too soon to give up on Qui-Gon.

Five days was not long at all, but the listless existence in the Charity Holdings had stretched time into a punishment that weighed him down into near despair. Now an adult and a apprentice for several years, Obi-Wan had never imagined that his patience could be worn so thin in so short a time. Realization of the limits of his ability to cope with his relatively benign situation added hopelessness to the malaise inside him. He could not imagine his Master being so badly affected.

Now on the sixth day, after a clear attempt to capture him with a decoy of his Master, Obi-Wan knew that Owain's enemies were still looking for him. And likely looking for Qui-Gon as well.

Or perhaps they had come to the Charity Holdings so many days after Owain was long gone to specifically to capture Obi-Wan? Perhaps to use as a hostage against Qui-Gon, Owain's protector? This possibility felt more real to him. And that meant . . . .

. . . . Qui-Gon was still alive.

Obi-Wan exhaled a long held breath.

He quietly got up off his cot and stood. Slowly he lowered himself, bending at the knees, arms out before him. Then he rose, carefully, feeling the flex of every muscle, his arms stretching upward.

Glowing yellow eye-sensors traveling up and down the aisles turned toward him from all directions. But Obi-Wan was not required to sleep, only to not disturb others. As long as he did not make noise or go near anyone else, the Attendant Droids would only watch.

He stretched and flexed the tendons and muscles of his body, turning, freezing, his awareness sinking into each motion naturally. The exercise was practically a meditation, done so many times by him over the years that it required little thought, the actions well worn in his memory. Obi-Wan was surprised that he had not done it since arriving in the Charity Holdings.

His sense of his own self, his balance, reformed inside him. The Force flowed freely with each movement, smooth and strong.

Obi-Wan wondered that he could be so disconcerted, so diminished by being stripped of his accustomed clothing and lightsaber, and then cast into a huge crowd where he looked no more or less like anyone else. One of many, almost invisible, in a vast cavern, as storage place for people who had no place to go. A Jedi had no attachments, no possessions. But he had felt his identity as a Jedi fading as the days passed, slipping out of his grasp like smoke.

A Jedi had purpose, service. But the Charity Holdings subtly stripped that away from its inmates, offering only basic necessities, order, rules and abstract goals to aspire to. Obi-Wan knew his goal now. He would wait for his Master to return and retrieve him.

When he finished the exercise, he climbed into his cot under the plain blanket and slept well.

**- - - End Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**Kenobi! Obi-Wan!**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 3**

"Tmish! Jeros!"

"Hamhat! Kee!"

"Lo! Atomsh!"

Obi-Wan listened to the morning callings but he did not stir from under his blanket. He had been awake since the lights had been fading up to their day brightness.

Lethargy had come with the new day, his seventh in the Charity Holdings. On all the other days he had risen early as he always did at the Jedi Temple, walked, eaten first meal, listened attentively to the names. The regular activity has masked his anxiety that as time passed he felt less and less like a Jedi in this place.

But he had accepted this and did not fear it now.

He lay curled up in his self-generated warmth under the blanket, the names raining down on him, one after the other. Being deprived of his own clothes, his robe, his lightsaber, had exposed him, cut him open in a way that he had never expected. The anxiety from the waiting had seeped in, made worse by his denial that the loss of the external trappings of a Jedi Apprentice disturbed him so much. But his connection to the Force had never wavered. He could feel it now in the warmth on his skin and filling the whole space around and above through all the living people there.

"Coradis! Ibigr!"

"Eikoritim! Ibigr!"

"Acrod! Oh-ash-tah!"

"Kenobi! Crive!"

The first two familiar syllables shocked him, his head popping up from under the blanket, the reflex acting faster than thought.

"Waxtori! Brias!"

"Amamatoro! Keorimuqui!"

The calling of names continued. Obi-Wan wondered who had sponsored Crive out. He had not sounded very hopeful a few days ago.

Now fully awake from his fleeting jolt of excitement, he threw the rest of the blanket off and went to the nearest Needs Building to refresh himself. Afterwards he looked toward the Food and Drink Quarter. He supposed he was hungry. He looked back toward where he had come, feeling no enthusiasm for his morning exercises. His lack of interest in the bland food won out and he walked back toward his cot.

"Kenobi! Obi-Wan!"

He froze. His head whipped back toward the Hailing Platform Tower.

"Gochumi! Creot!"

"Gre'chosh! Lee!"

The names continued booming out, but Obi-Wan's own name still echoed in his mind. It had been real. He looked down, then back up at the Tower. Then tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and reached for the Force, the faint touch on his body from the living beings all around him. And one further away in the tower.

Opening his eyes, he began running.

At the end of the rows of cots he waited briefly for a transport humming down a main aisle toward the Hailing Tower. It stopped for him and he joined the three other people riding on it. Transports ran almost continuously up and down the main aisles in the morning to take people to their potential sponsors.

As they approached, Obi-Wan looked toward the base of the Tower where a solid ring of droids kept a large space clear. There were too many people, too many sponsors in the morning to have them all meet at the top of the Hailing Tower in the morning.

The transport arrived and they all got off. There was a line. At the head of it, a boxy green Attendant Droid waited to hear each person give their name and stand to be scanned to confirm their identity. Other transports, full and carrying pale yellow passengers hummed quickly away from the Hailing Tower. Morning was also the time for new arrivals to the Charity Holdings.

"Kenobi. Obi-Wan," he stated clearly to the droid when it was his turn while a blue line of light from another droid's scanner passed over his head and body.

The droids admitted him to the circle with strict instructions to obey all directions and only step forward when called.

The yellow-clothed inmates lined the inner perimeter of the circle of green droid bodies. Other droids reorganized them while another at the far end of the sponsoring area called names.

Weeping, a large woman broke from a small group of outsiders to embrace a gray haired and stooped older man with silent tears running down his cheeks. The reunion continued even as a lead droid admonished them to wait to be called and the other machines shuffled the two off to a door in the base of the Hailing Tower. It opened and the two, still clinging to each other, disappeared.

"Torada, Tuki," the lead droid said, loud enough for everyone to hear. The lists of names called from above continued, but it was just background noise now.

A man in a white and green suit stepped forward from the small clutch of sponsors. A skinny, red-hair woman, taller than he was, stepped forward. They eyed each other warily, but apparently found this obviously anonymous sponsorship acceptable and left together, escorted by a droid.

Another door opened and four more sponsors emerged with droid escort to join the depleted group. Disappointed, Obi-Wan did not see Qui-Gon among them, but it was obvious that the droids were only bringing out a few sponsors at a time. They were a mix of humanoids and none of them wore yellow.

The lead droid continued reading off names. Sponsors and sponsorees paired off. Two males scowled at each other in mutual dislike. Two females hugged and kissed. A male and female presented empty hands to each other in formal greeting and walked off. A male guiltily went off with a sponsor who frowned her disapproval over his bowed head.

The sponsor's door opened again. And at the end of a line of five more people walked one very tall Jedi Knight. The long hair, the bearded face, the familiar dark browns and off-whites of his clothes drew Obi-Wan's attention immediately.

The Attendant Droids shuffled the lineup, moving Obi-Wan and some others closer to the end. Smiling pleasantly, Qui-Gon calmly returned Obi-Wan's eagerness a hand signal for patience.

"Gremodi, Chule."

A stalky male next to Obi-Wan sighed and dragged himself forward. The stout female who hugged him smiled and petted his hair, but he seemed unimpressed and uninterested in her attention as they left together.

"Kenobi, - - - "

Qui-Gon took a step forward.

" - - - Crive."

Frozen in place, Qui-Gon stared blankly forward, the surprise completely wiping out his calm confidence. Obi-Wan pressed his lips together and covered his mouth to keep in his laugh.

Crive stumbled forward to meet a woman who looked remarkably like him in face and build though considerable less aged from hard living. Apparently he had not used up all his relatives after all. They left.

"Ozrim, Grechin."

A male next to Obi-Wan strode forward and clasped the forearm of his new sponsor. Behind them, Qui-Gon took a step back, his confusion replaced with irritation; he could clearly see his apprentice's amusement.

"Kenobi, Obi-Wan."

Finally taking their turn, the two Jedi stepped up to each other. Aside from the unintentional joke on Qui-Gon a moment ago, Obi-Wan grinned with undisguised happiness to return to his Master who would take him away from a limbo of sluggish life, swimming with aimless despair of thousands.

Qui-Gon's annoyance vanished, his expression warming. He put his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders and they followed their droid escort toward the open door into the Hailing Tower base.

As he passed from the bright and barren Charity Holdings into the darkened space inside the Tower, Obi-Wan passed into another world where he was a Jedi apprentice again, with a mentor and friend who had finally returned.

The droid led them to an open lift in a row of them along the wall. They entered the dark green car, the door slid shut and it ascended slowly.

"I regret that I was unable to return sooner. Treddius Owain had several unexpected errands along with his enemies who were searching for us," Qui-Gon said, rubbing Obi-Wan's shoulder. "It would appear that your stay here was more difficult than expected."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to deny this, since now he was free from the anxiety of losing himself to a bland pale yellow existence. But he closed it when he saw the compassion in Qui-Gon's dark blue eyes. His stay had been difficult and his Master saw that, probably better than he did.

"Errands?" he asked, catching one word of what had just been said.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Owain had hidden his information in several places. Several different systems. And his enemies had set traps for him. But he is with the Judiciary now, and no longer our concern."

"I assume Owain's adversaries did not give you too many difficulties."

"Some," the older man admitted. "But nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing unexpected. However, when they tried to capture you yesterday, to use against me, I acted more aggressively against them."

"Were you there?" Obi-Wan asked in surprise. Could he have missed Qui-Gon's presence amidst his despair? But Qui-Gon shook his head. The lift slowed.

"No. But they issued their threats against you prematurely. They assumed that since they had discovered where you were that they could capture you easily. But I did not think that you would be so easily deceived."

Obi-Wan smiled and nodded, his disappointment the day before comfortably in the past.

The lift stopped. The doors opened into a small transit station, gray metaloid plates clanging underfoot. They saw a couple leaving in a transparent bubble-car and they waited on the platform for the next one.

Through a window opposite them, Obi-Wan could see the huge plain of the Charity Holdings below, all neat and orderly lines with a dusting of pale yellow, the people moving among the cots in the distance. The faint noise of them echoed from below.

"Then are they in custody with the authorities?"

The older man shrugged. "In a manner of speaking. Though he was a resident here, Owain's information was of limited interest to the locals. His enemies had attacked me and could be arrested, but that would have taken a considerable amount of time with the authorities who would have little interest in holding them. So, I gave them a choice of being apprehended by me, or removing everything from the persons and turning themselves in here."

Obi-Wan stared up at his Master and then down at the plain of tiny orderly rectangles.

"They should have been processed and placed by now," Qui-Gon finished.

Watching the movements of so many pale yellow figures on the floor far below, Obi-Wan recalled only glimpses of the people who had tried to claim him the day before. There had been three of them. Four, including the tall one in the dark brown robe.

"One of them tried to impersonate you."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Yes, I saw the robe. I believe he was only recently hired specifically for that purpose. He was not pleased to become involved in his new employer's troubles."

"Was he innocent?"

"I cannot say if he was innocent of everything. But I doubt he was hostile toward Treddius Owain. His involvement in that was only incidental. But he far preferred to come here than to answer questions from the authorities."

Obi-Wan looked more intently at the activity on the vast floor of the Charity Holdings, but no insight came to him about where one hapless inmate might be.

"Will someone claim him?" he asked.

"I do not know. He probably has family or friends and a home, but they would not know to look for him here. He could petition for an anonymous sponsor, but there would be questions when he came out."

Obi-Wan frowned.

"Unless he is sponsored out before then."

Obi-Wan looked to find his Master smiling down at him.

"But you can't," he replied, confused. "You can only sponsor one person out for one day," Obi-Wan reminded.

"No, I can't," Qui-Gon agreed. "But you can. After we have retrieved your clothes and returned."

After taking a moment to absorb his Master's suggestion, Obi-Wan grinned. A small transport car with room for two and a top like a smoky bubble arrived. They climbed in just as another lift arrived and two more people stepped out.

**- - - End Part 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Kenobi! Obi-Wan!**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 4**

Elbows resting on his knees, Tormas Plummis sat sagging on his cot. This had been his worst day-job ever. He knew that the people hiring him were shady. But he'd worked for their type before without asking questions, and the money they offered had been good.

He'd had no idea that they were asking him to impersonate a Jedi, until that same Knight showed up and cornered them all. The worst part was that the pay he had gotten had been dumped with most of their clothes when the Jedi offered to let them go into the Charity Holdings, an option only slightly better than answering questions from the police. Tormas had reluctantly taken the Jedi's charity; there was no arguing with that lightsaber.

He supposed that one of his brothers could sponsor him out, if they knew he was there. And then he would have to answer their questions about what he'd been doing. At least the Attendant Droids had assigned everyone in their group to different areas, so the people who had hired him were far away and lost in the crowd. Tormas wanted no part of whatever trouble they were into. He had more than enough of his own problems now.

"Plummis! Tormas!"

The sound of his own name jolted him upright. Staring toward his assigned Hailing Tower, he could see a few people there. He wondered who it could possibly be. But only for a second.

Tormas jumped up off his cot and ran.

**oooooo ___ ooooo __ END __ ooooo ___ ooooo**

This story is a test of a twitterable format. It was first posted on tf.n: 16-May-2009

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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